six months of complete bliss for the mccall pack. no evil villains to fight, no big breakups, just living like the teenagers they needed to be. it's senior year now, and all that's gonna change. will the pack survive? or will they disband, once and...
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________________ c h a p t e r t w o
*smut - nothing too wild - 18+*
"Come on," he helps her out of the pool, unfortunately stumbling on his on own way out.
"Stiles, what are you doing?" she giggles as he carries her into the room, dropping her on the bed.
"Shh," he winks.
She attempts to sit up, only for him to gently push her down, before climbing on top of her, trailing his lips down her neck.
She fights a moan, clearly holding back, making him stop.
"Uh, you're gonna have to be louder than that, babe," he runs his hands through her hair.
"Make me louder, Stiles."
He gives her a long look, before continuing his ministrations, leaving hickeys across the expanse of her neck. He soon moves onto her breasts, seemingly illuminated by the moonlight.
"You look so pretty right now."
"You know what'd make me look even prettier?" she sits up.
"What?"
"Screaming your name," she raises an eyebrow, begging him to stop getting so distracted.
"Not so fun when you're in this position, huh?" he smirks.
"I'm always in this position, you have the attention span of a squirrel."
"Um, you're the one who always makes me take the lead. Which really doesn't make sense, since you're the bossiest person ever, besides Lydia."
"Maybe I like it that way. Maybe I like it when you take charge..." she sits up. "And do whatever you want."
"Whatever I want?"
"Whatever you want."
"But it's your birthday, shouldn't you be getting what you want?"
"Stiles, I want you to listen to me," she pulls him closer by the collar, eyes darkening by the second.
He looks her up and down, hands just barely grazing her nipples, and she whines a little in frustration. "I can't listen if you're not talking."
"Shut-" she attempts to say, but the words seem to disappear from her mouth once his slender fingers make their way under her bottoms.
"What was that?" he teases, pushing a single finger inside, groaning at how wet she'd been already.
In a general sense, Stiles was normally an awkward, clumsy mess, while Carson was the put together, woman in charge. However, whenever they got alone, it was like they'd switched personalities and she was completely putty in his hands.
